Disclaimer: I do not own Justice League or Justice League Unlimited. I merely write this for my own entertainment and the entertainment of others.

A to Z, an Anthology
Jactitation

The halls of the Metro Tower were silent. Many of the occupants of the building sat in various areas, the cafeteria, the monitor room, the sparring areas, the hangar, and elsewhere. Most sat in silence, though some did speak to one another in low tones, almost as though they were afraid to break through the tension that had settled over everyone.

Bruce, though, didn't really care. Right now, his world had shrunk down to the isolation room he was staring into through a one-sided plate-glass window. He didn't give a damn about anything or anyone else right now.

Even now, they weren't sure what had happened, exactly. Diana had returned to Metropolis a week-long visit to Themyscira, retreating to her apartment that was provided for her as an ambassador of a sovereign nation by the United Nations. Twenty-four hours passed and no one heard from her, and she did not answer her cell phone or her land line. Concerned, Shayera had gone over to the apartment, only to find Diana collapsed on the floor in her bedroom, unconscious.

The subsequent examinations done by J'onn and the medical staff after Shayera had carried her friend back to the Metro Tower provided mysterious results. They all knew that the gifts given to Diana included continuous good health; she'd never been sick a day in her life. The tests showed that a virus had invaded her body, one none of the medical staff had ever seen before, and her immune system was not responding properly to combat it.

Bruce continued to stare into the isolation room, observing as J'onn, Clark, and a trio of nurses gathered around her. This would be the seventh treatment they'd tried. None of the previous six had worked for more than an hour or two. They'd bring her temperature down briefly, but then the virus would adapt and Diana's temperature would spike.

Of course, the usual symptoms accompanied that rising temperature. Fever dreams, vomiting, and thrashing. That last symptom was the reason Clark had accompanied J'onn and the nurses. He was there to hold Diana down in case she fought back when they tried to administer the new antibiotics. No one else had any hope of holding her down when she wasn't in her right mind.

Diana had been moaning erratically for a while. Bruce winced every time she pulled her IV out while she thrashed, trying to fight threats that existed only in her fevered mind. He listened to her shout threats at various villains – Brainiac, Felix Faust, Giganta. He listened to her call out for her mother, begging her to tell her that 'it' wasn't true, whatever 'it' was.

He listened to her whisper his name and words of love, and closed his eyes. She wasn't thinking clearly, Bruce kept telling himself, she would never say such things if she was coherent.

A small part of him, though, whispered that maybe that was the point. Diana couldn't say it when she was lucid because he wouldn't let her. Bruce wasn't stupid, he knew she well and truly loved him. He never said so out loud or let on to anyone, but Bruce was pretty sure he loved her as well.

That was what scared him. The last time he had loved so completely, so devotedly and without reservation, the objects of that affection had ended up dead in Crime Alley. What had happened that night had destroyed a part of him. If Bruce opened himself up to that kind of devotion again, and something happened, he knew he would never recover.

Clark appeared beside him, shaking him out of his thoughts abruptly.

"J'onn says this is the last antibiotic they have," the Kryptonian told him. "He's not holding out much hope that it'll work any better than the other ones."

Bruce looked at the other man. This was probably the bleakest he had ever seen Clark look in a long, long time.

"What do we do, Bruce?"

"We keep looking," he growled. "We're not going to give up, Kent."

J'onn turned out to be right, though. The last antibiotic lasted a few hours, and Diana's temperature dropped a few degrees for about four hours, only to spike again. Bruce continued to watch as Diana thrashed about on the bed. She was severely dehydrated, despite the fluids the medical staff was pumping into her. Her skin was whiter than the sheet that was draped over her figure.

After yet another round of tests, J'onn joined Bruce in the observation area. The other Founders had come as well, all staring at her through the window.

The Martian shook his head. "I've exhausted every possible treatment, even alternative medicines not used in mainstream medicine. Nothing is working." He bowed his head slightly and said in a softer tone, "I do not believe she has long."

Bruce heard Shayera gasp and saw Wally's shoulders slump out of the corner of his eye, but he said nothing, just turned back to watching Diana sleep. He vaguely heard John mention something about contacting Hippolyta, but he paid little attention to them.

"She's not going to die," he said abruptly. All conversation immediately ceased.

"Bruce," Clark started to say.

Bruce cut him off. "She's not going to die," he repeated. "She's too stubborn, and her healing powers will kick in."

"She's been fighting this for days," the Kryptonian pointed out. "Why hasn't it already?"

He didn't answer him. He didn't even know why he'd even spoken up. He just refused to believe that his immortal princess was going to die. That was his job, to one-day leave her behind. It had been his chief reason for keeping her at arms' length. Losing a friend, Diana could endure. Losing a lover would only cause more pain in the long run. Therefore, she was not going to usurp what Bruce had long-accepted as his inevitable fate and make his well thought-out reasons utterly useless.

Hours continued to pass. Bruce had no idea if anyone had ever bothered to go with John's suggestion of contacting Diana's mother. He only watched as Diana's heartbeat began to slow. The medical staff began to hover even closer, each looking for a last-minute cure that would save her life. They were, though, careful to keep a spot open so Bruce could still see Diana. The one time they didn't, he'd scared the hell out of them.

It was because of that hole that Bruce noticed Diana's eyes flutter even as her heart rate continued to drop. The speakers were on, so Bruce could hear the sound she made as her lips moved, just barely.

"Br… Bruce…"

He didn't hesitate. Shoving past John, who had been beside him, Bruce thrust the door open, heedless to the shouts that he must not go in without protective measures, that she could infect him. He honestly didn't care. Striding past the shocked medical staff, he picked up her limp hand and squeezed it.

"I'm here, Princess," he murmured. "I'm here. Don't go."

For a timeless moment, it seemed as though her tired eyes cleared and she was perfectly well again. Bruce even thought he saw her smile at him.

Then her eyes began to drift closed.

"Diana," he nearly shouted. "Diana! Stay awake!"

The world around him began to fade and all he could focus on was Diana as she slipped further and further away. He had her hand in a grip so tight it would have broken it had she been anyone else. His other hand came up to her shoulder and he shook her, trying to keep her conscious and with him.

"Be at peace, Knight. Your lady has not departed for the Underworld just yet."

Bruce whirled around to face the voice, though he did not let go of Diana's hand. He blinked. It was a young man, fit and tanned with sun-bleached hair, and wearing simple Grecian-like garments. What caught Bruce's attention, though, were his eyes. Bluer than his own or any other person's, they also spoke of great age, wisdom, and weariness.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"Apollo," was the simple reply.

Bruce stared. Apollo, god of the sun, replaced Helios in mainstream Greek mythology. Also known as the god of music, medicine, and sometimes prophecy. Twin brother to the virgin huntress, Artemis.

Wait. God of medicine, which meant health.

Diana had been fine until she had visited her people on Themyscira.

He glared at the god. "What did you do?" he hissed.

"A test," Apollo said detachedly, his eyes cool and calm. "To see if you were worthy."

Bruce stared at him. "Worthy? Worthy of what? Who? Diana?"

"Yes," the god replied. "My sister wished to know if her favorite follower had bestowed her heart to the right person. Artemis places little faith in the judgment of Aphrodite. She, after all, believed that Helen and Paris were an ideal match." It seemed to Bruce that Apollo was just about to roll his eyes.

"Let me get this straight," Bruce said after several moments. "You infected Diana with a disease – one that has no cure, mind you – in order to see if I would respond in a certain way…"

"Yes," Apollo nodded. "You are the princess' chosen, whether you accept that or not. My sister and I wished to ascertain that Diana had chosen wisely. Given her mother's choices, we felt this was best. The last thing anyone wanted was another round of Hippolyta and Hades' drama."

"You were willing to let her die?"

Apollo snorted. "Of course not. The disease has been removed. She will recover quickly, just as she always does when she is injured." Their eyes met. "Hear me well, Bruce Wayne of Gotham. You have the favor of Nemesis, and you are the chosen beloved of the princess of the Amazons. In days of old, those facts alone would acquire you many enemies. Today… well, no Amazon since Andromache and Penelope has forsaken their immortal fate in the name of love. I doubt the women on Themyscira will be particularly thrilled, but time will tell concerning their reaction."

"So this was a warning?" Bruce asked.

"Of sorts, yes."

Bruce sighed. The stories passed down about the Greek pantheon usually portrayed them as arrogant beings who took pleasure in interfering in the affairs of mortals. Diana had always scorned the tales, saying that they completely over-exaggerated the behaviors of her gods. Bruce couldn't wait until she woke up so he could refute her statements. Artemis and Apollo were nosy pains in the ass.

It would certainly be easier than asking her about this whole 'chosen' and 'favorite' business.

Jactitation: n. uncontrollable thrashing; harmful lie.

Author's Note: I'd like to apologize for the long delay in posting this. For some reason I wasn't able to load any documents in the Document Manager, no matter what type of document I used. I finally tried again today and the problem seems to have cleared up. Hope you enjoyed this!